


Look After You

by mockingjayne



Category: Normal People (TV 2020), Normal People - Sally Rooney
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: Marianne and Connell deal with the implications after the incident with Marianne's brother.Missing scene from 1x11.
Relationships: Connell Waldron/Marianne Sheridan, Marianne Sheridan/Connell Waldron
Comments: 26
Kudos: 143





	Look After You

She can feel his eyes on her the whole ride to his home.They roam freely over her, before flicking back to the road, but never failing to redirect every few seconds, taking in the blood from her nose, dripping down her cupid’s bow, dribbling over her lips, until it spills on her shirt, a trail of betrayal sliding down the arm that tried to stop the truth from flowing.

She wants to make an apology, again.Every jostle rumbling the words from her throat, until she can taste the bile of her hesitancy.It’s her go to, for being a burden, for inconveniencing him, for breathing.But he’s told her not to, and far be it for her not to follow an order. 

She’s used to this dance, it’s one she knows well, the steps coming to her as if from muscle memory, tiptoeing around a subject that is sure to set the person off.And while she knows that Connell would never hurt her, even when asked, and she cringes at the thought of what happened earlier, shrinking further into herself.She knows that he’s made no such promise to himself.He would never lay a violent hand upon her, but she can see the flittering eyelashes of concern illuminated in the light barely shining through the car, and the vein of worry threatening to burst at his temple.His mind is currently at war with his actions, and she knows it’s her fault.

Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth, the metallic taste of blood swallowed like rejection, tainting the confession of love that had drifted towards her, but sideswiped, always, by the voice in her head that had long since been ingrained, that told her that she was cold, unworthy, unlovable. 

And with every flickering glance from Connell, she waits for him to see her, the real her, the person she sees when she looks in the mirror, and yank back his admission from her cold grip of wanting, needing that love to be true, but knowing it never could be.Every jolt of a rock overturned on their drive sends a shooting pain through her, and she finds she’s not even bracing for impact, instead leaning into what she feels she deserves, but wanting so badly for it to stop.

She can see his hand hesitate to touch her as they step towards the door of his home, the small of her back begging to be reassured with this touch, his reach so close, only to find its way to his eyes, rubbing the billowy nerves clear, leaving her teeth to sink further into her lip, masking the word, _please,_ from escaping.

Lorraine is up when they arrive, and upon seeing Marianne, she gasps.

“What’s happened?” Her worried gaze lands on Connell, who nearly stutters with trepidation of how to even begin explaining what all has occurred.A flash of pain shoots through her nose as Marianne shakes her head.

“It’s my fault, I, umm, tripped,” and she knows that Lorraine can hear the lie leaving her lips, permeating the air with the damage of her family, saturating their cosy setup with a tension that’s never resided in this home of love and acceptance and encouragement. 

She feels the arms wrap around her before she can look up to meet Lorraine’s eyes, and after a moment of surprise wrapped in doubt, she finds her arms reach to squeeze back, her chin resting on the shoulder of a woman who has always taken her side.The warmth of her embrace melts the ice she feels crystal in her heart, a puddle of emotions settling in her stomach, waiting to boil over.

“I’m alright,” she finds herself mumbling, but even the movement of her lips hurts, not just physically, but emotionally, she just hurts.

Glancing around, she sees Connell has gotten a wet cloth during the embrace.

“Let’s get ye cleaned up,” he says with a gulp, his blue eyes filling with a high tide, threatening to overtake everything, the water at bay, refusing to look at her or else it would spill over, the emotion right on the precipice of overtaking him.

She nods, slightly, trying to still herself, looking back at Lorraine as they climb the stairs to the small room they’d just been in hours before.The heat that had promised to suffocate them was still there, encompassing them in its sticky grasp, demanding that they remain.

Marianne sits on the bed, the same way she’d done so the first time.Her fringe longer, her tights forgotten, the long sleeves shed, but the skirt remained with the nervous energy of _where do we go from here_ lingering.

Her feet dangle over the bed, her toes barely whispering against the flooring, her big brown eyes peering up to the anxious man in front of her.A gentle hand reaching out, and she closes her eyes in anticipation of the contact, but instead of his hand, she feels the once warm water now cold against her face quietly washing away the abuse, leaving her with a damp feeling of renewal, that maybe this time, it could be different.

The tremble of his shaky hand reverberates through her, the feel of him so close offering more comfort than she’s used to, but then again, Connell always felt more like home than any place she’d ever been.Her hand wraps around her hand, stilling his work, her delicate fingers landing on the pulse of his wrist, the erratic beat of him against her, twitches a smile to her lips that quickly turns to a grimace, and a shuddering sigh between them.

Slowly, he lifts the ruined shirt from her, careful not to touch her face.The grace with which he does so so unlike the first time, in which she’d gotten caught in her clothes, a nervous laugh escaping them both.But for all that was familiar about this gesture, it was foreign to them both.For it wasn’t a look of a lust that was shared between them, at least not now, but one of care, and fear, something akin to how she believed love would look, but couldn’t quite place the feeling to a word, because it seemed so much more.

His t-shirt rests on her thighs, engulfing her in the undeniable scent of Connell, as she settles into his bed, leaving space by the wall for him to squeeze in.She can hear his pacing form in the hallway, and she braces herself for the worst, another miscommunication, a resounding crack of her heart as he tells her he’ll sleep elsewhere, leaving her alone.But it never comes, he walks in, stripping to nothing but his boxers, before carefully climbing over her to settle by her side.

They lay staring up at the ceiling, only their sides brushing against one another, her mind screaming for him to touch her, to let her know that he was there, more than just physically.As if sensing her thoughts, she feels his fingers searching for her hand, interlacing their fingers together, intertwining their lives to more than just this night, their bond having survived years.

She turns her head, her lips a whisper away from his ear, she can feel the tension rolling off of him, and she squeezes his hand.

“Connell, I can practically hear you thinking,” she says, and although the words allude to her teasing, her tone is serious.

His free hand rubs at his eye with a sigh, before collapsing on his chest, penning a trail with his fingertip down his sternum, as if begging for his heart to be clawed from his chest and presented to her right there and then.

“I didn’t…” he starts, his head tilting in indecision, the words on the tip of his tongue, but his anxiety gripping them in a vice.“I didn’t know that it was, like…that bad,” he says with a raise of his brow.“I should have…I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” his voice breaking on the last word.

Her tongue comes to quickly lick her lips before taking in the bottom one, teeth sinking into the flesh.

“It’s fine,” she says out of habit, before catching herself, her eyes fluttering closed at the lie.

Connell turns over, rustling the sheets, to look at her face, and this time he can’t hide the way his eyes roam over every delicate feature, slightly marred by the swelling of her nose, bruising her eyes, taking on her pain as his own.She continues to grip his hand, not wanting to separate, as his free hand tangles in her hair.

“You’re not…fine, or whatever,” he counters, knowing her better than he may know himself.

When he’s this close, she can watch the veils of near black eyelashes close over the sea, eclipsing his thoughts, just briefly, before opening back to her, piercing the wall she’d put up around her heart, leaving herself bare, only to him.

“You can take it back, you know,” she whispers, the words catching him unexpectedly, and the hand gently massaging her head stills, his brow furrowing together.

“Take what back?” He asks, even though she suspects he knows exactly what she’s talking about.

“I know you only say _‘I love you’_ after something bad has happened,” she admits, recalling the times she’s heard it before.A night not unlike this, after she’d been assaulted in the nightclub, a confession about her dad, his tumble of words being exactly what she’d wanted to hear, only to have been met with an action that was not of love shortly after, leaving her a mess.The last night message she’d listened to far too many times than she’d like to admit where a tearfully tortured Connell had once again admitted to such a thing, the night of the Debs, only to then turn around and date Rachel.“I’m giving you an out,” she marks with a steely voice, turning her head so she doesn’t have to see the moment that he yanks the only love she’s ever had away from her.

He lets go of her hand, untangling their fingers, and she immediately feels a cold absence sweep over her.Her nose having been broken, but the real pain of the night prepares to take over, a blow to the heart.

But it never comes.

His finger settles beneath her chin, his thumb resting in the indent, gently turning her to face him, his actions bolder than that she’d seen before.

“I meant it, Marianne,” he says with a conviction so strong, she feels it in her soul.“I love you,” he repeats, and although she’s heard the words before, hearing them from him, in that moment, she wants to believe them more than anything.“I know, I’ve hurt you before, and I’ll never forgive myself for it, but I will spend forever proving that I mean it.” 

She can see the sincerity in his eyes, and that’s all she’s ever wanted.Someone to try, someone to choose her.For falling in love may not be a choice, but to remain in love is a daily choice, one that requires choosing to stay.And here he was, promising just that.

“You’re blushing,” she teases, her hand feeling the heat from his cheek underneath her fingertips.

“I’m always blushing around you,” his fingers tickle against her lips as he traces the outline of her smile.

“Connell,” she says against his skin, his name like a litany in the dark.She doesn’t say those three words back to him,she’s not ready, and she knows he won’t fault her for it.She says everything she needs in just his name.

It’s then that her tears fall, beating him to the punch.The steady earth of her eyes lose themselves in the sea of his own,

Pulling her closer, he makes sure that he doesn’t hit her nose, as she allows him to wrap his body around her, shielding her from any harm, trapping his breath in his lungs, refusing to let the anxiety leave, but as she rests her head against his chest, she knows that she’d protect him just as soundly as he’s vowed to do for her.And in that choice, the one she feels in the form of a kiss to her forehead, in the fingers that dance across her back in a soothing pattern, in the breath he only releases when she’s settled against him, she can feel him slowly, but surely, helping to piece her back together, in the same way she’d done for him, each taking pieces of the other and using them as their own, rebuilding together.

And that was love.


End file.
